One Apple A Day #79
How many days. Five. Six. Mya can’t remember last time she left her room. She moves the curtain, just a fraction to check if the sun is out. Gray. Like yesterday. And the day before.
She whispers to someone invisible “I don’t fill the sun coming out Today”.
She waits for an answer that will never come. He’s gone. Him and his “it can rain forever” attitude. They are both gone, and now it looks like it will rain forever.
She looks around at her room. It’s a small place, a studio on the last floor of an old battered building. From outside it looks like it may collapse any moment. And inside it’s not much better. But she loved this place even before seeing it. And it’s close to the ocean. She misses the ocean. She used to spend hours throwing questions to the waves and listening to their answers. But that was before. Before she started hiding between this four walls. Hiding, this is what she’s doing. She wants to go to the beach, but that would mean to walk on the streets. Pass by the cafés, cross the square with all the stalls, meet people. Like last time. She still can feel their eyes on her skin. And then the murmurs and whispering between them. “Look at her, poor girl. I’ll never live that way.”
She doesn’t hate them. She’s just sad for them because they are foolish. They are just scared. Scared of life, scared of what she represents, scared of themselves. They are afraid to change. She’s not. Mya has been changing all her life. Maybe she has the opposite fear. She’s afraid to remain the same.
Still, she doesn’t want to go out. She’s tired, and she doesn’t want their eyes to crawl over her skin.